I dismiss the men, knowing they need a break as much as I. It’s an unusual phenomenon to realize just how much we’re similar and yet so very different.

I forgot how draining it is to be in a community. I much prefer my old ways of lingering in shadows and leaving before anyone is the wiser. This is too much like a pack, always having to stake your abilities and prove yourself adequate.

But, we also have those to watch our back and fill in for our weaknesses.

If we can trust them.

Why should we not?

Trust is earned, not given.

True.

I almost fall over in surprise. Did it just concede?

Don't get used to it. He grumbles.

I almost dance a jig, but restrain myself from such an unprincely show of excitement.

I hold in a breath of relief as the men go their separate ways. I was not ready for this day, neither were they. But I think we made some progress. Maybe. I hope.

There’s a group of girls gathered in front of a sweet tart stand as I make my way towards the bathhouses, but I pay them no more mind than a cursory glance until one waves me down.

“Roland, right?” She says.

She stops before me, giving an appreciative glance at my physique.

I nod, even as I become distinctly uncomfortable.

“Could you teach me some moves like that?” She twirls a piece of blonde hair, nodding back at the dismissed men streaming from the barracks.

The pale blue dress clashes with her bright red frock, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Her nose is petite and her mouth is full. Her eyes appear like molten emeralds poured into a circular mold.

Pretty enough, even with a few pimples on her forehead and eyes a little too far set. It’s the calculating glint in those emerald eyes that makes me want to escape for the hills.

The other girls surround me. Trapped. My lips press down into a frown.

“Oh, yes! Could I have a private lesson?”

“I wish to learn how to protect my family, handsome.”

“I need to learn how you move so… easily.”

One girl actually reaches out a hand and lightly touches my bicep. I jump, and she retreats with a sultry smile.

I grow increasingly uncomfortable and my cheeks grow redder by the moment. I stumble over a few words as the girls press in on me, much as I imagine sharks would an injured whale.

“Ladies. Ladies!” That voice descends straight from Paradise.

Heather pushes herself between two disgruntled blondes and latches possessively onto my arm. My body is already under so much flight or fight duress it welcomes her touch with barely a flinch.

“Roland has had a long day. He’s going home to rest and relax before tomorrow, and with his important job of training the men to be safe, I wouldn’t dare dream of distracting him for more time than I already have. Good day!” She bats her eyes up at me, the sparkling humor in them easing some of my worries.

She drags me out of the circle, the ladies behind us composed of icy glares and a very few guilty stares.

At least that’s over.

My cheeks stay red, even as Heather bypasses the usual inn at the edge of the city in favor of the woods. We make our way beyond the tree line. Heather drops my arm when we pass beyond the treeline.

I roll my shoulders, still feeling tense.

A chuckle makes me raise my brows at Heather.

She shakes her head even as she covers her mouth to hide a smile.

“You can take down a murderous black mage, survive enough silver to kill ten Shifters, somehow survive while running from one of the world's most dangerous Empires, but you lose it when surrounded by young ladies?” Her eyes twinkle as she takes in my heating cheeks.

“Fine. I don’t know how to handle that kind of—attention. It’s not happened before,” I say.

She outright guffaws. I glare. That makes her laugh harder until even my lips quirk and I have to admit, it is a bit funny. But not that funny.

It is. You just don't want to admit it.

“Roland, hun, with those looks, how have you ever not been given that kind of attention?”

“I’m a Kursk.” That should be obvious.

She snorts. “But a good-looking Kursk. I’m not surprised, if I’m honest.”

I step back, as if she were going to attack. “Are you...?”

She snorts again as she takes my meaning. “Any lady would have a treasure if she caught you. But I don’t believe you’re ready for that. Not yet.” Her head tilts to the side. Her next words are slightly more hesitant. “We can be family, but in a different way. I would be honored if Shasta could grow up knowing she has a brave and loyal uncle who knows a thousand different ways to kill silently if someone so much as looks at her wrong. Would you like that?” she asks softly, a hint of something I can’t name lingering in her eyes.

I nod. It’s a jerky thing, as I wonder how in the world I could gain so much family away from my blood. “I would like that very much.”

Heather grins as my last word squeaks out. She takes a knife and lightly nicks the meat of her palm to draw blood.

I do the same, and we shake on it, our blood mingling.

“Blood siblings, then.” My voice comes out gruffer than I’d like.

She throws her arms around me, and even as I’m stiff as a board, she gently pats my back. My shoulders ease when she steps back.

“Blood siblings,” she grins. “I’m going to tell Shasta how emotional you became when I asked you to be her uncle.”

I growl. “Don’t you dare!”

“You almost cried.”

“I will steal your cookbook,” I retort.

“I have those all up here.” She taps her forehead. “You’ll have to do better than that, kinko,” she says, calling me brother in our language. She sends me a teasing smile, then walks into the deepening shadows and past the inn.

I can’t help but shake my head with a small chuckle. What, exactly, did I get myself into?